


Ain't It Thrilling

by romanitas



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Gen, Snowball Fight, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-19
Updated: 2016-12-19
Packaged: 2018-09-09 15:56:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8898217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanitas/pseuds/romanitas
Summary: Bellamy is a perfectly competent adult who is perfectly capable of making decisions about whether or not to have a snowball fight – but he could do a little better at watching where he’s throwing. 
Or: "I meant for that snowball to hit my friend but you came around the corner at the last second and now we’re having a snowball fight"





	

Bellamy Blake is an adult. He’s twenty-nine years old, in his second year of teaching history, with an apartment and a roommate, he’s got a savings account, and he even had a steady relationship last year, all of which absolutely makes him an adult, no matter how many snowballs he throws in Miller’s direction.

As the roommate, Miller is also technically an adult, and all their bills are paid on time. They have some friends and a semblance of a social circle. They are adulting the shit out of life, and as real adults, they have a say in what is or isn’t grown up behavior. Thus, by the very fact of their age and accomplishments of adulthood, having a snowball fight isn’t childish. Octavia can go eat a snowball. Or he’ll throw it at her, because why wouldn’t she get herself involved too?

Miller pelts him in the neck and ducks behind a trash can. Bellamy cringes as it seeps under his collar and swears. “Asshole!” is the war cry as he leaps on top of the bin and slams a snowball straight onto his friend’s head.

“Now who’s the asshole?” Miller yells back as he rolls away. Bellamy leaps off and immediately starts to roll up another snowball. It had started off in teams, him and Miller versus Octavia and Monty, but somehow it devolved into a free for all. His sister, he’s sure, is hiding up a tree somewhere, and Monty is undoubtedly building a supply he can use to throw several in sequence.

Miller runs off and hides behind a snowpile, leaving Bellamy standing alone and prime as a target. It’s quieter than he likes, especially since he knows he’s a sitting duck. He crouches down and crunches through the snow, listening carefully for any other signs of movement. He is armed and ready, and maybe he can convince Miller to team up again, because taking down his sister is going to be a challenge.

He hears someone walking swiftly behind him, and without thinking, he launches the snowball, because any hesitation means he’s the one getting smacked.

Except there’s a yelp of surprise that is several octaves higher than Miller, and Bellamy turns around very slowly. It’s definitely not Miller, but it’s not even Octavia – it’s one of his neighbors, a blonde girl about Octavia’s age he’s seen around the complex sometimes, but he doesn’t know much about her including her name, and he definitely just pegged her in the shoulder with a snowball.

“Oh, shit, I’m sorry!”

She blinks and sputters, which means some of the snow flew into her face, and he feels like an asshole.

“Are you okay? That was meant, uh, for someone else –”

He’s hurrying over in a blur because he needs to apologize a million more times, and he’s so hyperfocused on his transgression that he totally misses the way she leans over, scoops up some snow, then takes aim directly at his head.

He’s so surprised that he actually stumbles, but then he gets a good look at the smirk on her face and breaks into a grin. “Oh, wow, in that case, forget the apology. Bring it on.”

Bellamy Blake would like to reiterate that he is twenty-nine years old and therefore any decision he makes is an adult one. He leans over to scoop up some snow, and just like that, the strange blonde neighbor is inducted into the war. She’s good – _really good,_ pegging him in the back a few times when he’s usually good at avoidance. None of the others question her joining in, but they might regret it a little bit, because she definitely teams up with him to take out his sister, and together they manage to get Octavia down from the tree. Bellamy tackles his sister in the snow, and the sides flip, with the blonde girl slamming a snowball straight on his head, which lets Octavia slither out and away.

“Whose side are you on?” he laughs.

“Mine,” she grins, nailing him in the face without hesitation.

Monty and Miller truce temporarily and take aim, assaulting both him and the girl with Monty’s stock pile.

“Low blow!” Bellamy yells, ducking over and attempting to throw some back in tandem with her. His pants are soaking through to the skin, but this is the most fun he’s had in ages, and there’s always hot chocolate to warm up with after. He is not thinking about how many snowball fights he and his friends get into every winter that the routine is memorized.

Octavia jumps on his back and he almost falls over from the force of it, but she has enough time to smash snow on his head before they both collapse. She goes down laughing, and Miller dumps another snowball at his chest. Monty comes to his rescue with the girl, and they wail on Miller and his sister until they back off.

He should really learn her name, but snowball fights are serious business, and he would lose valuable time to annihilate Miller which is ultimately the true end goal. They all circle around the building, and he loses sight of his sister again, but he’s distracted by a one-on-one fight with his mystery neighbor. They dart around, climbing over snowpiles and dodging around cars, pelting each other at every opportunity.

Bellamy throws one at her face, which has her laughing as he nearly somersaults behind a bush to avoid her return snowball. She’s quick though, running straight towards his hiding spot and raining down two or three on his head. With his own laugh, he literally rolls away, but it leaves him open for her to kick more snow at him.

“Cheating! You have to throw them!”

“The snow is flying through the air, isn’t it? That’s what it should come down to!”

He scoops up more snow and throws. His hands are like ice, but his desire to win and keep throwing snow is stronger than his need to keep warm. She throws more back, and he shuffles to the side, letting it hit his arm. Rushing towards her with more snow, she lets out a shrieking laugh before dropping to the ground to avoid it, and she scrambles over a snowpile, launching herself over it to hide from his view.

He skulks up slowly, keeping as low as he can, and when he reaches the pile, he peers up inch by inch till he can get a clear shot – only she leaps up first and pegs him in the face. With a cheerful swear, he scrambles over the pile and smashes a snowball into her hair, making her cringe with a cold delight.

“Now I _know_ that’s not a real move!”

“Thought we left those real moves behind a while ago?” he grins.

They’re both essentially soaked to the skin by the time he notices the sun is going down and the streetlights are flickering on and that they’re the last two soldiers standing. She hits him in the cheek with a tiny snowball, and he laughs. He’s about to return the favor when she lets loose a full body shudder, mouth open like she’s about to deny it, but she just smiles wryly instead. “Guess I wasn’t totally dressed right for a snowball fight today.”

“Is there really proper attire for one though? They can literally start up anytime, evidenced by this afternoon. Hard to prepare for.”

She laughs again, and it’s a nice sound. He shoves his hands into his pockets, a signal that it’s probably over, and she does the same, tucking her chin down into her coat. “Thanks for letting me join in,” she says, with a surprising amount of sincerity.

“What, you didn’t take the initial hit as an invitation? I thought it was universal code for welcome to snowball hell.” But he brushes it off. “Seriously, it’s the least I could do after hitting you in the first place.”

She beams. “It was – a good way to de-stress. It was really fun. I’ll probably get sick in the morning, but it was worth it after the day I had. I was so ready to yell at you for an outlet, but then I decided throwing one back was the better option. Who needs karate?”

“Everything okay?” he asks on instinct, because if he doesn’t live up to his mother hen reputation, he doesn’t know who he is anymore.

“Just work stuff.” She tries to sound casual despite the definite fatigue to her tone. “I hate my job, but who doesn’t?”

“I don’t,” he says instantly.

“Ah, of course. The snowball king loves his job,” she teases, but there’s no real ire in it.

“That’s a title I’m going to lord over you and my sister forever, thanks. But uh, it’s Bellamy, for the record.”

She smiles. “Clarke.”

“I’m assuming everyone’s already inside because they’re not crazy, but we tend to cook up some hot chocolate after these fights, if you wanna join us.”

“I don’t want to intrude,” she says, but it sounds like a response born of politeness more than lack of interest. She looks so tired and drenched right now that there’s no way Bellamy is going to let her go home alone if she would prefer company.

“Are you kidding? Monty will want to ask you for tips. He is constantly trying to kick Miller’s ass, and he could use all the help he can get. Besides, we got you soaked, let’s be honest. We basically owe you ten cups of cocoa.”

Clarke smiles, a lot more genuine this time. “I am pretty good at this.”

“I’m apartment 304, if you wanna swing by in a bit. I swear I’m not trying to lure you into a trap.”

“That’s exactly what someone luring me into a trap would say.”

“Do you have experience with this?”

“Only a little. Snowball fights are more my forte than kidnappings.”

Bellamy grins, and they start walking inside making more idle, easy chat. Clarke _is_ his sister’s age, only moved in a few weeks ago after following her best friend to town. She gets off on the second floor, with a promise to stop by shortly, and he walks the entire way to his own place with a stupid smile on his face. When he walks in the door, both Miller and Octavia whirl on him.

“Oh, are you done flirting via snowballs?” his sister taunts, wrapped in his favorite blanket with her hair pulled into a messy bun. She totally grabbed it on purpose out of spite. It’s a constant feud.

“Seriously man, be less obvious,” Miller adds on, already changed into sweatpants. All their sopping clothes are probably hanging over the shower rod when it’d be much more beneficial to toss them near the heater, but it’s an ongoing debate.

“Are you saying I flirt with all of you? Gross. Except Monty,” Bellamy says, fistbumping Monty as he walks by. “But she’s probably coming by for hot chocolate.”

“How the hell did you pull that off?” Octavia asks, baffled.

“It’s called a question, and she seemed kinda lonely. We did basically go to war with her, we can share some cocoa. I’m seriously not looking for a hookup here.”

He isn’t. He hadn’t even thought he was flirting with her, just enjoying a snowball fight with a stranger, because that’s the exact sort of situation he would get himself into. He’s being a mother hen again by inviting her over, which they’ll see soon enough. His neighbor had a long day at work and deserves to unwind with some cool people – his friends are not cool, but it’s the thought that counts.

The kettle starts to whistle just as there’s a knock on the door, and he has a fight with Octavia as they race to answer it, but he wins, shoving her with his elbow. “Hey, Clarke,” he says, a little too enthusiastically.

She’s in leggings and a hoodie, smiling weakly, like she’s still not sure she’s actually welcome. “Hi.”

She shuffles inside behind him, and Monty immediately swoops in, carrying two cups of cocoa. “Hi, I’m Monty,” he says amicably, holding one out for her. “We’ve got marshmallows if you want, I wasn’t sure.”

“Thanks, this is fine,” Clarke says, looking more at ease. “Are you sure I’m not intruding?”

“Are you kidding?” Monty says. “Bellamy adopts people via snowball all the time. How do you think I got here?”

“He’s lying. I didn’t adopt him via snowball.” He pauses. “He came via Octavia.”

Clarke laughs a little, and they all herd into the living room, settling in on the couches and chairs while Octavia pulls up some holiday movie on Netflix. “If you’re worried about intruding,” she starts, “Me and Monty don’t even live here, but we do basically show up whenever we want. Also, you kick ass at snowball fights. Seriously, where did you learn?”

“I used to build forts with my dad all the time,” she replies, taking a sip of her drink. She looks a lot more relaxed with Octavia’s ease at small talk. “It always turned into snowball fights.”

“I want you on my team next time,” Octavia says.

“What team?” Bellamy sighs. “We never stick to teams.”

“Sounds like you really got some traditions to follow here,” Clarke teases.

“We take our snowball fights very seriously,” Monty says gravely, peering at her from over his cocoa. Clarke breaks into a laugh, which has Monty laughing, and that drains the last of the tension. Clarke fits right in easily, with any awkwardness brushed aside by Octavia being brazen about everything, and she looks glad to be here, which is all Bellamy could have asked for. They’re all pretty used to the way people get inducted in, because he is virtually incapable of turning people away despite all grumpiness to the contrary.

Octavia doesn’t even make it through the whole movie before she bails, citing some work project but Bellamy knows she’s just trying to coordinate her arrival home with her own neighbor, Lincoln. Monty sticks it out till he gets a text from Jasper, done with work and in need of a ride, so he slips out with a wave and tells Clarke to join back in the snowball wars anytime.

Miller leaves with a only a quick wave, which Bellamy assures her is normal, and actually more vocal than usual, save the times he goes to bed with a “good night asshole” when he’s feeling affectionate.

“I should get going too,” Clarke says, climbing to her feet. “Not to rush out – just another long day ahead tomorrow.”

“Can’t guarantee we’ll have another snowball fight to help wind you down, but hey, you know where I live. Just throw one at me if you need it.”

She laughs, and he’s only really known her for a few hours, but the sound is going to be a problem. “Well you did say throwing it was all the invitation someone needs.”

“I wasn’t talking completely out of my ass,” he says with a shrug, walking her to the door.

“Thanks a lot for the cocoa,” she says. “And the movie. It was nice. I should probably have tried to get to know the neighbors sooner if this was the result.”

“We’re all kind of assholes on some level, so I don’t blame you for being reluctant.”

“Assholes are my favorite kinds of people,” she says with a grin. “It was nice to not be alone tonight, so thank you, really.”

“Then you’re probably in the right company.”

“Do assholes go sledding too? It’d be a shame to let that giant hill down the block go to waste.”

“Takes a little more coordination, but you’re only allowed to come if you like to race.”

“Perfect, wouldn’t want it any other way. I’m expecting some Mario Kart levels of hostility here. I saw the way you guys snowball fight.”

“And you haven’t even met Raven yet. She built her own sled.”

She slips out and grins. “Room 202. That’s me, for the record. See you around, Bellamy.”

“Bring your sled!” He waves her off, waiting till she disappears back into the elevator, and he’s glad Miller’s gone to his room already, because he absolutely does not need anyone to witness the dumb grin once again on his face. Bellamy Blake is twenty-nine years old and today might have been the best snowball fight he’s ever had.


End file.
